


to wrap me in paper

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breeding Kink, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fake Science, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, Library Sex, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nerd Harry, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, References to Mpreg, Rimming, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, and, mainly this is about the, this is somewhere between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to wrap me in paper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShyWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyWriter/gifts).



> Hey friend, I tried writing you a long, plotty fantasy fic, but, in the end, that didn’t work out. So, instead, you get kinky library porn. 
> 
> Also, I'm not kidding about the breeding kink or the dubious consent. Hope that still fits your fancy! 
> 
> Thank you to my beta for all the help with all the things at such short notice. 
> 
> Title from the first poem in [this set](http://www.lnstar.com/literature/pablo/).

Louis’ gaze is stuck on Harry. Not an unusual issue for him. But, at the moment, he isn’t mesmerized by a loose curl and he isn’t imagining biting into the pink of Harry’s lower lip.

No, at the moment, he can’t look away from Harry’s elbow.

Which will knock a stack of books off the table and onto the floor of the library… right… about… now.

Even as closely as he’s been watching, Louis flinches as they crash. He should’ve said something, probably.

Harry’s whole body ripples with energy as he jumps out of the chair and down to the floor to pick up the heavy volumes. He stacks the books carefully, the largest on the bottom, the smallest, a dusty paperback that’s cover is ripped in half and falling off, on top.

The muscles in his biceps bulge as he lifts them. Louis’ jealous of that, even after all these years.

When they were pre-teens, they’d both been skinny little things, neither expecting much of ‘the change.’ Most omegas were born with vaginas and most alphas had strong jaws and a thickness to their necks that Harry and Louis did not possess.  

Well, ‘the change’ came and Louis’ an alpha alright, but Harry’s still the one with the brawn. Louis’ arms and chest and thighs are toned, but it’s hard earned, three hours a week in the weight room while Harry’s in his yoga classes.

Harry sets the pile of books back onto the table, again far too close to the edge for Louis’ liking. He still doesn’t say anything, though; he knows better than to interrupt Harry when he’s in one of his _moods_.

Louis draws a line across the page of his notebook and closes the play he’d been reading. He’s bored of it, already. He pulls out his current biology lab assignment, instead. It’s for an intro class he’d failed as a first year. He’s struggling through this time too, but at least now Harry’s around to help.

“Wow,” Harry says. He speaks the word softly, but it’s still startling in the quiet of the stacks. His eyes stay on the page and Louis’ not sure if he knows he’s spoken aloud. When they study together, Harry often narrates his discoveries, but it’s not for Louis’ benefit, as far as he can tell.

“Omegas born without vaginas are just as likely, if not more likely, than any other omega to carry a pregnancy to term,” Harry reads. “Seventy-five percent for omegas with vaginas and- _oh wow!-_ seventy-eight percent for omegas without. That’s incredible, Lou.”

Apparently, this time, he _is_ aware that Louis is listening.  Cool. Louis isn’t sure how to respond. He’s trying not to picture Harry’s belly bulging with a baby.

“Yeah, I mean,” Louis says, finally, his eyes staying on his own assignment. He needs to figure out which part of the diagram he’s supposed to be labeling. He places his finger on the spot and then looks up. “I’ve always wanted children.”

Harry nods. “I know, me too.”

Harry’s gaze returns to his own book. Which, upon more careful inspection, is an academic journal. A science one, Louis realizes, not a book at all.

“What are you working on?” Louis asks. Harry’s a gender studies major and three of his four classes this semester are in that vein. And he’s beginning work on his thesis. It really could be anything.

Harry shifts in his chair. “Just some research.”

“Obviously,” Louis replies, placing his elbows on the desk and his face as close to Harry’s as possible. A waft of Harry’s scent hits him, sweet and potent, and his dick jumps.

A dimple appears in Harry’s cheek, but he doesn’t look up.

He’s a damn tease and he knows it. In retaliation, Louis slides his foot out of his shoe and up against Harry’s calf. “Come on. Tell me what you’re doing.”

Harry’s second dimple appears and then both dimples deepen, but he remains visibly focused on his book.

Yeah, right.

His scent is thickening, which means his cock is, too, probably.

Louis lifts his foot further to press into Harry’s thigh and then over his cock and, bingo! Harry’s huge and hard, straining against the fabric beneath Louis’ toes.

He’s sitting totally still.

Good, Louis thinks, they’ve been in here too long anyway. If they head straight out to the bars afterwards, Louis’ afraid people will think he’s taken to wearing dusty-paper-scented cologne.  

“Get your smelly toes off of me.” Harry’s voice is quiet, his words overly enunciated.

Louis gives him another firm rub for emphasis before dropping his foot back to the ground. He leans back across the table to whisper. “You love it. You’re getting wet, I bet. Gonna make your heat come early.”

Louis’s impressed with the firmness of his tone. They’ve been working on this, getting into, like, character, or whatever, during sex. For the first couple of years they’d fooled around together, Louis’d been too nervous, too worried about hurting Harry, to really push him.

That is, until last year, when an Intro to Alpha Sexuality class had inspired Harry to ask if Louis’d wanted to fuck him harder, to mark him up, to boss him around in the bedroom.

Louis’d only been fantasizing about it, about digging his nails into Harry’s skin hard enough to leave little half moon marks for fucking ever. He’s been wanking to thoughts of pushing Harry up against any and all available flat surfaces since before the change, since before they’d known that Harry’d be an omega.

“You could do,” Harry tells Louis, pulling him out his reverie. That’s the main problem with studying across from Harry- Louis often gets distracted by sexy daydreams.

“I could do what?” Louis asks, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Make your heat come early? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Harry nods. “I read an article just a couple hours ago. Like, it’s not a myth that most Alpha/Omega bonded pairs go into rut and heat at the same time.”

Louis frowns. “But I couldn’t actually _make_ you go into heat.”

“I mean, if you went into rut, though…” Harry draws out the words, eyes fixing back on the page. He’s talking like Louis has control over when he goes into rut. Which he doesn’t. It’s all got to do with the moon or the seasons or whatever. Louis doesn’t really understand it, but he’s sure Harry does.

Like, Louis does a terrible job keeping track of when his ruts should be happening. His mother swore that he’d have a pattern, if he only marked his calendar to observe it. The problem is Louis doesn’t even have a calendar aside from the one on his phone and he doesn’t want embarrassing shit like that popping up if one of his dickwad friends manages to steal it from him for more than a moment.

Still.

He’s always wondered if maybe Harry’d been secretly keeping track for him. Harry maintains a very detailed calendar of his own.

“So if I went into rut and you were nearby, then what? The heat would just come on?” This doesn’t make sense to Louis. He’s spent nearly every day with Harry since the beginning of all this.

“Well, no. I guess not,” Harry agrees, he’s biting his lip.

After a moment, he breaks eye contact with a shake of his head and returns to pretending to read.

Or maybe he’s actually reading. Louis supposes Harry must read sometimes because he manages to get very good grades, despite Louis doing his best to distract him, basically all the time.

Speaking of, Louis presses a toe into the soft spot behind Harry’s knee.

Harry glares at him. Then, he says, “I think it’s a matter of being around each other so much that our cycles begin to align. And, then, even if they aren’t perfect, the hormones released at the start of one can trigger the other. Or, like, at least that’s what the scientists are theorizing.” Harry pauses, taking in Louis’ presumably very confused expression.

He bites his lip and Louis imagines it’s his teeth and not Harry’s that are sinking into that wet, red skin.

Louis meets his eyes again and, seeing that his pupils are wide and dark, Louis knows he’s still hard in his trousers. He wonders if Harry might be up for fooling around before they go out. Louis’ definitely up for it.

Harry sighs, “I mean, after all the trouble my aunt had getting pregnant, I don’t know if I believe them, though. I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“We’ve always been around each other,” Louis replies.

This is an interesting and important conversation, he recognizes that. But Harry’s scent is getting out of control and Louis’ focus is only so good to begin to with. So.

So maybe instead of talking about this, they should conduct an experiment, try to make it happen. Louis learns best by doing, anyway. He licks his lips. Harry’s always _responded_ to his tongue.

The thing is, even if he can’t pull Harry into a heat, he definitely can seduce him out of his studies. And that’s what Louis wants right now: a quick, fun fuck.

Harry lifts his chin. He can usually see right through Louis’ seduction tactics, which Louis doesn’t mind. That’s kind of the point, to let Harry know he’s horny, and to try to rile him up in response. Sometimes he’ll go along with it and sometimes, he won’t.

Louis tries to meet Harry’s eyes to suss out his interest, but his gaze catches on the bare skin of Harry’s throat, revealed by the tilt of his tee-shirt hanging from his neck, slightly off-center.

“I know you think I’m kidding, but we’ve never lived together before this year. Like, it could happen: me in heat, you in rut. We could make a... kid.”

Louis swallows, looks down, and adjusts his trousers. A kid, _fuck._ He’s sure he’s harder than Harry, now.

He leans back in toward Harry, gets a whiff of Harry’s scent, and decides to move away again, to settle back into his chair. He has questions.

“Why are you telling me all this, anyway? Are you working on a paper about breeding or something?”

Harry chews his lip and then he leans forward, mimicking Louis’ earlier pose, his eyes wide. “I might’ve been doing some calculations.”

“When?” Louis asks, already knowing exactly where this is headed. “When are we going to match up?”

At some point during the conversation, his hand has slid across the table to cover Harry’s. He squeezes for emphasis when Harry doesn’t answer. “When, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze is unfocused and Louis’ certain his pupils are widening with arousal. He looks down at their tangled fingers. _Fuck_.

“Tomorrow. Or the next day, maybe?”

Louis takes a deep breath and pulls his hand away. He needs to think and right now his mind is muddled with Harry’s scent and thoughts of _mating_.

Eyes closed, he asks, “When did you figure this out? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Harry, like…”

“I can stay at a friend’s. It’s not a big deal. I mean, it doesn’t have to be,” Harry assures him. His voice’s gone rough.

Louis thinks that he might have miscalculated the timing.

He presses his toe into Harry’s calf. “What if I want it to be a big deal?”

Harry takes a shaky breath, but his gaze is clearer again, and zeroed in on Louis. He knows Harry gets it. They could mate; Harry could take his knot, for the first time.

“You want to?” Harry scratches out, reaching a hand across the table to wrap his fingers around Louis’ wrist.

Louis shakes his head. He’s not being sensible. “My mom said not to mate before you’re married or you’ll end up by yourself with a baby.” Actually, she’s never said as much to him, but she’s been pressing it upon Lottie since the very day she began ‘the change.’

“Are you threatening to run out on me?” Harry asks, as he links his fingers with Louis.

Louis shakes his head. “No, I mean. I would never. We’ve been best friends for, like, eight years, or something. I couldn’t leave you.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Not even for another omega?”

He’s smiling as he asks the question, as if he’s suggesting something absurd. Which, he sort of is. They don’t really talk about it much, the future. But Louis’ never pictured himself with anyone else.

“You’re the only omega that even smells good to me,” Louis tells him.

“I had better be if you want to put that knot in me.” As Harry spits out the words, his head tilts and his dimples pop.

He looks so _cute_ talking about Louis’ _knot_. Up his ass.

And now Louis’ imagining it. He can’t lie, the idea has a played a star role in his wanking fantasies, especially recently, but seeing as how the only time he’s got any knot to speak of is during his rut, he’s never actually experienced it.

Harry’s chewing his lip again. “Louis?” He shifts in his seat.

He’s leaking. He’s fucking _leaking._ In the _library_. Louis can _smell_ it.

“You could really get pregnant, Haz. Like, you were _just_ saying that. This is a actually a big deal. Not something we should rush into. It’s-”

Harry’s nodding as he speaks and running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’ve thought about it a lot, though. And we were always going to be together. And we both want kids.”

He’s right. But Louis hasn’t even- he’s not really thought about actual children, children that he would have to take care of. Just yesterday he’d heard a man on the radio talking about a recent survey that showed parents being less happy than non parents 100% of the time. One. Hundred. Percent.

(When he’d told Harry about the study, Harry’d gone off about sample size and nonresponse bias and how he really wanted to see how they’d measured happiness.)

Harry must see Louis’ panic because he squeezes Louis’ wrist and says, “I want to have your babies.”

Louis wants that, too. He does, but he also wants time to think about it and plan for it.

Except, then, the image from earlier floats back through his mind- Harry thick with child, grinning and glowing, like all pregnant omegas are supposed to.

He reaches under the table with his free hand to rub at his erection. When his fingers brush the top, he freezes.

“Harry,” he rasps.

Harry fingers slide back to link with his own. “Yeah?”

“I’m… my rut. It’s not happening in a couple of days. It’s happening _right now_.”

Harry takes his lower lip between his teeth and nods. He doesn’t look surprised.

Louis closes his eyes. How could Harry have figured this out and _not told him?_  

“You knew, didn’t you? Fuck, Harry, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it back to our flat.”

He could probably make it on his own, but with Harry… Keeping his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath. Harry’s scent is always sweet, but near his heat, it has this spicy edge that Louis can’t get enough of.

He breathes it in again and opens his eyes.

“We don’t have to go back,” Harry murmurs, meeting his gaze. He’s grinning and shaking his head.  

“One of us has to go back and one of us has to go to a friend’s. I’m not ready to be a dad, Harry,” Louis says.

He realizes he’s being a bit of a flip-flopper, here. This is not what he’d said last night when they’d been clicking through a Facebook album of Harry’s cousin’s baby girl. Last night, he’d been adamant that he needed his own baby, straight away. Hell, Harry’d been the one insisting that while the little thing was adorable, he’d heard from his cousin that she was also too much damn work.

So, yeah, it’s not what he’d said last night. But last night he also hadn’t thought that it would be an immediate possibility, either.

Harry tucks his chin up, revealing his throat. It’s bares a mark from a few nights ago when Louis’d pinned him to the door of the bathroom after his evening shower and sunk his teeth into his neck.

Harry’d been teasing Louis about going out, finding someone to ‘scratch an itch’ he had. And Louis’d needed to make sure he remembered that Louis was a very capable itch scratcher.

The mark has begun to fade and Louis’ now the one with an itch- an itch to fix it up, make his claim clearer. He clenches his fists, actively fighting against the urge.

 _Fuck_.

He’s in rut. It’s really started

He’s only experienced the rush of adrenaline that comes at the start nine or so times before, only about once a year since he was thirteen.  

He stands up and begins to pack his bag. He’s surprised at how smooth and powerful his motions feel. So different from Harry who, he can see out the of the corner of his eye, has begun to tremble.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get out of here, Harry, or I’m going to do something I’ll regret- something we’ll both regret. You’ve never seen me like this. It’s, like, I’m out of control.”

He’s violent, rough even with himself. That much he remembers from before, that and the overwhelming _want_.

He’s often overcome with the urge to be inside Harry. Harry’s lovely, all curls and smiles and dimples and pale skin and sweet scent, even when he’s grumpy, and they’ve been sort of together since the change. Harry’s always plying him with saucy touches and pleas for sex. So wanting Harry is a normal, everyday part of his life.

The desire to throw Harry atop the desk, rip off his trousers, slam into him, hard and deep, and to fill him up with seed- that’s not normal. That’s the rut.

And now that he’s thinking it, picturing Harry’s hole, wet and open for him, he can’t fucking stop.

“Lou.” Harry’s standing now, too, and Louis’ eyes trace the line of his body. His nipples are hard, poking out through his shirt. Louis’ fingernails bite into the flesh of his own palm as he imagines squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, making Harry yelp in pleasurepain.

“I want you to take me, Lou.” Harry’s voice is hoarse and Louis is sure he can’t know what he’s saying.

His scent is heat-rich; Louis knows it well, as he’s been there with Harry through every single heat since he’d arrived at university, two years ago.

Yeah, fuck. Louis knows and _loves_ that smell.  “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

These aren’t the words that Louis wants to say. And they come out, ugly, biting and rough. Louis has to get out of here. He’s really not himself. Harry has no idea.

“I know a place we can go. It’s down in the basement,” Harry says. “No one ever goes there.”

He runs a hand through his hair. It’s curling around his temples more than usual, damp with sweat.

Jesus, he and Harry, they’re both so _ready_.

Louis closes eyes again. “You are not going to spend your heat _in the library_.”

“Yeah, I am. I want to. I brought snacks and I have blanket in my locker.” Harry hauls his backpack up over his shoulder and it pulls the white fabric even more tightly across his chest. The shirt is thin enough that Louis can see the pink of his areolas.

He lets out a harsh breath. “Okay. You can do that. I’ll go back to ours.” He blinks and nods. “Yeah, that’ll work. Good thinking.”

“You’re really going to walk across campus like that?” Harry asks. His eyes are fixed on Louis’ crotch.

Louis looks down. Through the khaki material he can see his dick outlined, clearly, head bulging with a wet spot at the tip, the length of muscle in the middle, and the beginning of the knot at his base.

He brushes a piece of hair out of his eyes and looks at Harry. “I’ll carry some books over it or something. Don’t worry abo-.” 

“Lou,” Harry interrupts him. “I meant we could stay here together… you could _knot_ me.”

Louis’ breath is coming more quickly. He shakes his head.

“I want you to knot me.” Harry’s words cut through his carefully bound control. Louis’ going to do just that, knot him, he really is, if he doesn’t get the fuck away from Harry very, very soon.

Clearly unaware of just how volatile Louis’ feeling, Harry begins to move around the table toward him. He stops to stand right beside Louis, who’s now swimming in his scent.

“Harry,” Louis says and it sounds every bit the warning he means. Which is a good, because he feels desperate and he would have expected a whine.

“Yes,” Harry answers immediately. He dosen’t seem to feel the threat in Louis’ tone, because he steps still closer. If Louis tilted his head, their noses would brush.

Louis leans in to press a soft kiss against Harry’s lips. He tastes as sweet as he smells and his lips follow Louis when he pulls back, drawing him in for a second kiss. Louis’ hands come up to reach around Harry’s biceps and with great effort, he’s able to put a few additional inches of space between them.

“I’m really-” he begins and then stops. “I want.” Fuck, the only words he seems to be able to find are for his nearly overwhelming desire.

Harry’s panting now, too, and his brow is glistening with sweat. “Louis, we need to get downstairs. Like, right now. I’ll- I’ll do whatever, but let’s hurry.”

Louis needs to maintain the space between them, he knows he does, and yet. And yet, here he is leaning in his forehead to press against Harry’s.

“This is really serious. I could get you pregnant. I really, really could,” Louis says and is appalled at how pleased he sounds by the fact. His emotions are such a mess. God, this is why ruts are such a pain in the ass.

Harry leans in for another kiss and this one lingers, Harry opening up and pulling in Louis’ tongue, sighing as Louis presses in more and more and more forcefully.

It’s going to happen, Louis realizes. He and Harry are going to go through the next twenty four hours or so _together._

Like, completely _together._

“Come on,” Harry tells him, pulling away toward the staircase. Louis feels his absence like an empty ache and takes a gulp of air, breathing in his lingering scent. Then, feeling completely helpless to instinct, he slings his own laptop case over his shoulder and follows.

The place Harry has in mind is in a basement below what Louis’d thought was the basement, on a floor Louis didn’t even know existed.

“No one ever really goes to the stacks down here. It’s mostly rare scientific texts from before the 1950s,” Harry explains, sounding surprisingly clear-headed.

Maybe all the dusty books absorb smell as well as they absorb sound. Louis doesn’t think so, though, because he feels wild as ever.

“Harry, love,” Louis says. Harry turns around and the words leave Louis’ mind. His hands find Harry’s own and, pulling them up over his head, he shoves him up against the end of a stack. His lips find that spot on Harry’s neck, the fading mark he’d been eying earlier, and he drops a few firm pecks atop it before allowing his teeth to sink in.

Harry whines and cants his hips so that Louis can feel his cock.

“Fuck, Lou, oh _fuck,_ ” he groans. His voice is breathy, higher than usual, and the sound of it sends shivers through Louis. He thrusts his thigh up and Harry groans again, this time without words.

“What’s that, love?” Louis asks, lips brushing Harry’s bruised skin. “Something you want to say?”

“Your knot,” Harry chokes out.  

He can feel it. _Fuck_. Harry can feel his knot. Louis rocks into him harder. “You want it? You want it inside you?”

Harry whimpers. “Yeah, fuck me.”

Louis grabs the bottom of Harry’s shirt and pulls it up and over his head and then runs his nails down the pale flesh of his bare sides, leaving faint red tracks on the skin. Vaguely, he’s aware that he should be more careful, that he doesn’t want to hurt Harry.

But then Harry’s nodding, mouth open, head banging back against the metal of the bookshelf. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

Louis peels down his trousers and then his pants, his movements are quick and jerky, but even so, he’s able to see the spot of fabric darkened by Harry’s slick as they fall to the floor.

He slides his hands around Harry’s bum and grasps his cheeks.  “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he hisses. “You’re already ready for me.”

Harry’s hands hang limply by his sides and he whimpers. “Yeah, I am.”

Louis moves his mouth over Harry’s chest, pulling one of Harry’s nipples between his lips and sucking, hard. Harry’s shaking against him.

Why did Louis think this was a bad idea? He can’t remember. All he knows is that Harry is here and he’s slick and he’s begging for Louis’ knot.

Louis moves his mouth to Harry’s other nipple, which is already firm and purpling. He’s starts out more gently with this one, nipping and rolling his tongue over it lightly.

But then Harry lets out a pitchy whine of breath, and he can’t help but sink down onto the pink skin around it with his teeth.

“Fuck,” Harry says. He’s usually so eloquent and Louis likes that about him. But during his heat, Louis’ observed that his vocabulary shrinks to a few feeble words. Louis likes that, too.

Louis lets go to lower himself further, biting a rough line down over his ribs and his belly and his groin. Then, he bites into the flesh of Harry’s inner thigh, while at the same time sliding one finger and then two fingers into the wet heat of Harry’s body.

Harry pants out a few words, but they’re garbled. Louis looks up, “What was that?”

“I said,” Harry gasps. “I didn’t ask for your fingers. I want-”

Louis cuts him off by twisting said fingers just so, causing Harry to close his eyes and keen.

“What was that?” Louis asks again.

“You’re so fucking... “ Harry doesn’t finish his sentence and his face goes blank with pleasure as Louis begins to thrust his fingers in and out and in and out.

With his free hand he guides Harry’s cock to his lips. Against the tip, he says, “You’ll get my knot, when I say you’ll get my knot.”

Harry’s hands grab lightly at his shoulders, pressing him closer.

Louis acquiesces to the touch, taking Harry’s head into his mouth and sucking at it, hard. Harry’s easy for it when he’s in heat and, down here, there’s no confusing the rich tang of his scent. He’s in the midst of it now, fertile ground for Louis’ seed.  

“Louis.” Louis is able to make out his name, spoken relatively clearly amidst Harry’s gasps. He pulls off and begins to tug at Harry with his fist, trying to match the rhythm of his fingers in Harry’s ass. He thinks it’s rather clumsy, but Harry’s whimpers intensify, nonetheless.

“It’s okay, love,” Louis murmurs. “Come for me. I want you to.”

As the words fall from his lips, Louis recognizes them. It’s what Harry’d been coaching him to say the other day, when he’d been pushing for Louis to take more control during sex. He’d wanted Louis to tell him when to come.

“Come for me,” Louis says, again, and this time it’s almost a growl.

Harry gasps and stills, come pouring over Louis’ hand and spurting onto his cheek. Louis looks up. Harry’s mouth is open and his eyes are wide. He’s still shaking when he finally looks down at Louis.

Louis slides his fingers out of Harry’s ass, and sits back on his haunches. The motion tugs his trousers roughly across his cock and he reaches down to adjust himself. His balls are beginning to ache. He’s ready for his own release.

He considers trying to move a few stacks over, so he’s less tempted by Harry’s ass. He could at least try to get himself off privately, hold his knot tightly in his own fist, mimicking as best he can the sensation he truly craves.

“Don’t you dare leave me like this,” Harry grates out, reading his mind. His eyes are closed now and he’s leaning most of his weight against the stack behind him. “I want you to knot me, Lou.”

He opens his eyes and Louis meets his gaze. He wants that, too. He wants it so fucking bad.

Harry shakes himself and then slowly moves to squat beside Louis on the tile floor. With trembling hands, he spreads out the blue fleece blanket he’d grabbed from his locker on their way downstairs and then he squishes up a pair of hoodies, placing them at one end to resemble a pillow.

Then he sits his bare, _leaking_ ass down on the center of the makeshift bed and grins up at Louis expectantly. He pats the space beside him. “Well?”

Louis sits, but he keeps his distance.

After a moment Harry’s gaze drifts from Louis eyes to his groin, where, Louis realizes, his hand is still rubbing lightly against his dick.

“What are you waiting for?” Harry asks. “Are you worried about being too rough? That’s what I want. We’ve talked about this.”

Harry lays back onto the pillow, planting his feet on the ground and lifting his hips a little, so that his asshole is visible to Louis.

Louis’ hands fist in the fleece and he restrains himself from crawling over to hover above Harry, line himself up and--

“I don’t want to get you pregnant!” Louis insists, but he’s unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them off, even as he says it.

Harry sits up, suddenly. “Oh fuck,” he says. “I’m glad you said something.”

Louis stills, trousers around his ankles, watching Harry shift to rummage through his bookbag. Louis can see the mark on his neck, bright pink again, and he smiles to himself. No one else better be fucking scratching Harry’s itches, he thinks bitterly.

When Harry turns back around he tosses something at Louis. A condom.

“What the fuck? You brought this with you to the library?”

“I’m always prepared,” Harry informs him, repostitioning himself with his ass on display.

Louis rips open the package and slides the rubber over his cock. It’s the special kind, he notes, with a baggier tip, specially made for sex during ruts. Harry is usually prepared with a condom, this is true. But not for Louis to _rut_ , and then also, “Why did you let me go on and on upstairs, about the whole, like… pregnancy...?” He trails off.

Harry grins. “I could feel my heat starting and I wanted you to knot up for me. I know kid talk gets you hot.”

Louis moves over to hover atop him. When their faces are inches apart, he says, “You little shit.”

“I mean,” Harry says. “I really do want that. Someday. Someday, I’ll be ready for you to put your seed in me, knock me up.”

Louis leans down to suck a mark onto the other side of his neck, pressing his cock against the skin of Harry’s belly. Harry moans and goes loose at the feel of it.

“You really wanted to do this in the library, then?” Louis asks, grinding down even harder. “That’s what this is all about.”

Harry lets out a breath and closes his eyes. “You only. _Fuck,_ Louis. You only get a knot, like, once every 342 days or so. I was not going to pass up the opportunity to get it in me, no matter where we happened to be.”

“But you hoped we’d be in the library,” Louis presses, lifting his hips and positioning his cock at Harry’s entrance.

“Yes, just _fuck me_ ,” Harry whines.

Louis sits up.

“Lou,” Harry begs, fists clenching. “Come _on_. Knot me.”

“I don’t think so,” Louis says, scooting down the blanket. “I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

The movement jostles his still aching cock and he wishes, briefly, he’d listened to Harry. He’s very ready. They’re both really fucking ready.

However, Harry needs to be taught a lesson first.

He places his mouth directly over Harry’s hole and breaths out. Harry keens and squirms.

“We’re in the library,” Louis reminds him, lips brushing against pink folds of skin. “You need to be quieter.”

Harry doesn’t make a sound, which is good. But when Louis’ tongue darts out for a taste of his slick, Harry’s hips jump.

“Stay still, too,” Louis says before diving in to lick up the wet all around the outside of his hole.

He tastes lovely, sweeter even than he smells. It’s best like this, rimming him during his heat, when he’s wetter than usual. Louis likes feeling Harry’s juices sticking on his chin afterwards, a reminder of how much he’d wanted Louis, how desperate he’d been for him.

Still, he doesn’t have the patience to work at him very long today, not with his knot full to burst, aching between his legs.

As Louis thrusts his tongue in and out, he feels Harry’s hips begin to tremble. He doesn’t want Harry to come again, either, not before he knots him at least, so he sits up, licking his lips.

He meets Harry’s glassy gaze and smiles. Harry smiles back, but it’s strained. He wants to speak, Louis realizes.

“What is it, love?” Louis asks, and then, more firmly. “Tell me.”

“I need…” Harry pants, his voice is rough and low this time. “You.”

Louis swallows and nods. “Fuck yeah, my knot,” he murmurs, scooting forward and lining himself up at Harry’s hole.

He meets Harry’s eyes as he presses in.

Harry gasps and winces, his muscles tensing against the intrusion. A shudder wracks through Louis’ body and he shoves himself the rest of the way in.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers and his eyes shut.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, watching a drop of sweat trickle down Harry’s cheek. He’s trying to keep himself still, for just a moment, long enough for Harry’s body to stretch around him.

A long minute later, Harry opens his eyes and licks his lips. He tips his chin forward, just a bit.

Louis arches back and then thrusts in again, hard. 

It doesn't take them long to find an even rhythm, one that has them both moaning. Louis keeps his movements quick and aggressive and soon Harry’s quaking beneath him.  

The muscles of his ass pulse and flutter around Louis and his cock twitches up, spurting come hot against Louis’ belly where his shirt has ridden up.

The pressure that’s been building in Louis since they were upstairs, since he’d begun imagining Harry with a _child,_ with _Louis’_ child inside him, explodes and he releases into Harry, his knot sliding forward and settling in place, holding them together.

Harry’s arms wrap around Louis’ back and his legs come up around Louis’ hips.

“Fuck, Louis, don’t stop,” he whispers. “Stay.”

Against his neck, Louis murmurs shakily, “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

Harry grips him more tightly between his thighs, his ankles digging into Louis’ asscheeks, rocking Louis deeper into him still, and they both whimper.

They’re best friends, he and Harry, and have been for a long time. Someday, he knows, they’ll be married.

But he can’t imagine, even then, feeling closer to Harry than he does now, on the dusty floor of the stacks, a wall of books towering over them on either side, his cock deep inside Harry, as they lie knotted together for the very first time.

He mouths a kiss against Harry’s neck and the motion sensor light flickers off above them.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello on [tumblr](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com).


End file.
